The Death of Professor Binns
by madcap writer
Summary: Title says it all. It's the old man's death. It was funnier in my head, trust me.


The final bell of the day rang, and Professor Binns didn't even notice. It was only when the sound of chairs scraping against the floor did he look up. Then it took him a second to realize that class was over. He must have been in a particularly energetic mood today for _almost_ three students didn't fall asleep.

Inspired by this fact, he nearly made an effort to wish the students 'good day'. However, only a few remained, and he couldn't remember their names. It was best to save this surge of excitement for the next day.

He slowly made his way to the great hall. The professor made his way to the same seat he had sat in for the past thirty-four years and ate the same dinner he had eaten for the past twelve. To make up for the missed opportunity in the classroom, he even considered adding salt and pepper to his cold cut sandwich.

_No,_ he scolded himself, _why disrupt a perfectly working routine?_

He always spent exactly thirty minutes for meals, then went to the staff room to read. This was the most varied part of his life. He actually had five books to pick from when he went to the staff room. What was he going to read tonight? Perhaps _A Complete History of Magic Development, Vol. I_. Or he might decide on _A Complete History of Magic Development, Vol. II_. Then again, volumes III, IV, and V were also good. But who was he kidding? It was simple _foolish_ to read them out of order. Everyone knew this. He picked up _A Complete History of Magical Development, Vol. IV_, and started reading where he left off last night.

When he was done reading his regular seventy-five pages, he put the book back on the shelf.

Professor Binns now planned for the following day. He got his notes for the sixty-eighth day of term, third year. He had written notes for the whole year for each grade level his first year teaching. History hadn't changed, so why should he? At least, that's what he told himself.

Binns lowered his frail, old body into a comfortable chair in front of the fire. Maybe he'd actually retire this year. The school seemed supportive of that decision (especially the students). It wasn't as if he was getting worse at his job, it just _might_ be time to move on. He couldn't teach forever…

* * *

The next morning he felt oddly light. He took it to mean anticipation of actually saying goodbye to his classes today. Maybe this is what anxiousness felt like. It took him a moment to realize that he had fallen asleep in the staff lounge.

_Fiddlesticks,_ he thought, _that throws off my whole morning._

He did the unimaginable and skipped breakfast to even out the routine. He didn't even feel hungry.As he walked down the corridor to his classroom, he heard a scream from the staffroom. He would have gone to help whoever it was, but he was already so confused without his normal regime, he couldn't mess it up even more.

He walked into the classroom and heard several gasps. He looked around for the commotion.

What he saw next almost made _him _gasp. The students were staring at Professor Binns.

Students never started at the professor. First years did, but only on the first day of school. And these were third years, on the sixty-eighth day of school. They shouldn't be staring. Yet they were.

"What's wrong with you?" Binns demanded.

"Wrong with us? Look at yourself?" A boy said. Binns couldn't remember his name. Andrews, Andredi, Anderson, something like that.

A different student spoke up, she was more kind, "Um, professor, you're kind of… well… dead." She finished uncomfortably.

Another girl held a small mirror to his face. He could see right through his head which was made up of silvery pale material.

"Oh?" He looked at his hands. They were made of the same stuff. "Well, we're going to continue where we left off yesterday. Everyone to their seats."

"But you're DEAD!" shouted the first boy who had spoken.

"There's no use in ruining a perfectly good routine."

Mouths dropped, eyes glared, heads banged repeatedly against desks. Now there was no hope he would ever retire.

Really, no one should have been surprised.

* * *

**I just had this random inspiration to write about his death. I'm really sorry you had to read this, it sounded so much funnier in my head. Review anyways though. Don't worry about insulting it, I'll be laughin with you. **


End file.
